


Mabel's Magic Mistletoe

by Cheeziswin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5875462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeziswin/pseuds/Cheeziswin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Stan twins are finally getting along! But just “getting along” isn’t quite up to Mabel’s standards, so she devizes a plan to give them a nudge in the right direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mabel's Magic Mistletoe

The house was like a minefield. A tinsel covered, red and green, gingerbread smelling minefield. All thanks to the resident 13 year old, armed with festive glitter grenades and belts of popcorn cranberry garland. No part of the shack was left undecorated; fake, sparkling snow on every available surface, and every room was practically blinding with how many lights were strung up around the place. Every single display in the shack had a Santa or elf hat on, even the “Invisible Yeti” had a hat floating (actually strung up with fishing line) above where it’s figurative head would be. Which wouldn’t bother Stanley one bit. He’d never truly admit it, but it was pleasant, cheerful. As Christmas should be. Though the glitter was embedded permanently in almost every surface.

No, his problem stood with the _mistletoes._

_Every. Single. Doorway._ Not one area was clear of the wretched things.

Stan’s not even sure where she got the hammer to nail them all up. Or the nails themselves. It was like he woke up one day and they just appeared everywhere. He asked Mabel how she managed to Christmas bomb the entire house over the span of a day and a half, all on her own, but she gave a worrying wink and a comment of “Don’t ask how magic works, Grunkle Stan.”

Stan didn’t bother to push further, not entirely sure he wanted to know the true answer, anyways.

At first, they didn’t quite bother him. He found nothing odd about the girl obsessed with love wanting to provide it in every corner of the house. Plus, he didn’t mind a kiss on the cheek from one of his niblings, or even one of his two employees. They were family, family that became even closer after the events of the apocalypse. A kiss on the cheek was as familiar between them as a hug was. What was there to worry about?

Besides, they’d been up for exactly two weeks, and he’d only gotten caught under one of them twice. Both times with Mabel, and he’d received two enthusiastic but clearly disappointed kisses on the cheek.

Why she seemed disappointed, he had no clue.

Until on December 15th, when he caught wind of her true intentions.

* * *

Mabel had been trying her hardest to pull Ford out from the basement more often and into the festivities. During the beginning of the month, he would still stay mostly to himself in his study, just like he usually did. But the closer to Christmas it got, the more persistent Mabel got. It wasn’t until Mabel gave a tearful speech, on how this was their first Christmas all together, that Ford agreed he’d move his studies temporarily upstairs. Just until Christmas, he claimed.

Stan could have sworn he heard Mabel snickering as she walked down the hallway, oh so generously helping Ford move some of his equipment into the living room. He’d raised an eyebrow, and got the chilling sense that something he wouldn’t like was about to go down, but he shrugged it off and continued chugging his soda.

* * *

The next day, Mabel practically _woke up_ with her game face on. She threw her blankets off, and headed straight for the bulletin board.

After the events of Weirdmageddon, her great uncles claimed to have made up. At the very least, they weren’t at each others throats, or avoiding each other entirely afterwards. Mabel might have been a huge contributor in all of that, as she gave them a very stern talk about only having one life and one family to cherish it with. The twins had never seen a thirteen year old seem so no-nonsense. She continued even as her and her brother got onto the bus home, yelling as the vehicle started up that they needed to treat each other nicely. “Yes, Mabel, we’ll get along. Please stop hanging half way out the bus window, you’re going to hurt yourself.” They reassured as they waved each other goodbye. But Mabel wasn’t convinced one bit. She spent the months they were apart worrying if they were hugging each other every day, or if they were at the very least talking to each other on a regular basis.

When they came to visit for the whole month of December (leaving early and arriving on the last day of November), after much convincing towards the parents, her suspicions were confirmed. They were back to their lonely ways, the both of them sticking to themselves. They sure got an earful when she found that out. But even then, they still didn’t interact much. Only little nods between each other when they passed, or a good morning or good night. She hadn’t seen them hug even once!

Mabel was having _none_ of that.

That’s why she stood in front of the idea covered board now, chewing on a pencil. She’d already put the first step of Plan 2 into motion, convincing Ford to drag his butt upstairs to be with the family. She’d even drummed up her acting skills for that one. She hated lying, but technically, acting for a good cause wasn’t exactly lying.

Even if it was, it was a good type of lie. For the most part.

In her defense, she had to, when Plan 1 was a flop. She was hoping she could keep it to the simple two steps of the plan: 1. Mistletoe everywhere., 2. Wait to get lucky. But two weeks in to the only month she had to do this, with zero successes, she was getting desperate. Drastic times called for drastic measures, so she moved on to Plan 2. Which wasn’t exactly a set of steps like the last plan, more a set of ideas that had potential.

As she stared at the board, trying to decide on which scheme to go with first, she glanced at her calendar.

December 15th. 10 days until Christmas. 10 days to get her two grumpy Grunkles to kiss each other.

A sudden determination washed over her.

Piece of cake.

* * *

9 days later, and not as much of a piece of cake as anticipated.

She’d tried almost everything in her plan. Getting both her Grunkles in the same room proved a challenge, getting them to both enter the room at the same time even more so, trying to throw a mistletoe into the air, hanging one in the middle of a room, even the pushing method failed. 9 days of failed attempts and Mabel was getting pretty downtrodden.

And her Grunkle Stan was getting pretty paranoid. She’s pretty sure Stan caught on to her schemes the day Plan 2 begun. Maybe asking for them to pose for a picture under the very obvious mistletoe was too head on. Now, he would hesitate whenever Mabel called for him, suspicious of a trap, and rightfully so. After one close call he started to downright refuse to respond. He would check the perimeter almost every time he went through a doorway, and started avoiding his brother (and now, Mabel) even more, which was obviously the exact _opposite_ of her intentions.

Yet unsurprisingly, the odds played in Mabel’s favor when it came to Ford. He was woefully unaware of her games. She knew her uncle was pretty oblivious, but it still surprised her to find out the extent of that unmindfulness.

So she had one more trick up her sleeve. She’d been sure to wake up before when Stan’s alarm went off, but after Ford woke up. She’d get Ford to take a glass of eggnog up to Stan, he’d knock on the door, Stan would answer it, and _boom!_ She’d been sure to secure the mistletoe over Stan’s door nice and tight, so it had no chance of falling or getting stolen by fairies. She wasn’t taking a single chance. With one last glimmer of hope in her heart, she bounded down the stairs.

Only to find Stan standing in the archway to the kitchen, armsful of mistletoe. The ones that should be hanging over every doorway in the house.

Mabel’s heart immediately dropped, and she skipped the last step in order to tackle her Grunkle, with a very impressively upset “ _Nooo!_ ”

Mabel slamming into his gut knocked all the wind out of his lungs and mistletoe out of his arms. He stumbled backwards, barely managing to right himself. Mabel stayed with her arms firmly around his waist.

“Grunkle Stan, why are you taking the mistletoe down?!” Mabel cried into his torso, squeezing enough to hurt.

“Why do you _think_ , kid?” Stan huffed. He wriggled his way out of Mabels death hug, with some whining protests from Mabel. Once he got her off, he bent down and collected the decorations that had scattered on the floor. She was only off for a second before she hopped straight back onto his back. He ignored the weight, and the pain it brought, and shuffled towards the living room to get the last mistletoe. All along, Mabel clinging to him and pleading for him to stop.

“You can’t take them down yet! It’s only Christmas Eve!” Mabel yelled into his back, but Stan ignored her protests as he strained his reach to get the mistletoe off the nail.

“Sure I can.” Stan said, then under his breath “Jeez, you really tied this one good.” Mabel let go of his back in order to go for a frontal assault, trying her hardest to push Stan backwards. “I know what you’ve been up to, and I’m not gonna let it go on any longer. We’re taking these down early.”

“But I haven’t been up to anything!” Mabel lied, _actually lied_ , and Stan stopped his struggling to look down at her in surprise. Mabel had tears prickling at her eyes that Stan was about 90% sure were fake. He glared down at her. Mabel paused her cries at the look. “O-okay, I was up to _something_.”

Stan scoffed, and finally resolved to yanking the mistletoe down rather than taking the time to untie. He put it in his other arm amongst the other ones that had met their demise in a similar fashion. Satisfied that he’d gotten them all, he pushed past Mabel to head for the front door.

Only to suddenly have a nibling clinging to his leg.

“But it was for your own _gooood_!” Mabel cried, arms wrapped around Stan’s ankle. Stanley groaned and proceeded to try and shake her off. But she proved to be stronger than she looks as she didn’t budge in the slightest. “I’m only trying to help you see what you can’t on your own!”

“Come on, ya runt, get off!” Stan commanded, only for Mabel’s grip to tighten more and her to yell back a firm and determined “ _No!_ ”

“What is going on at 6 in the morning?” Ford called, peeking his head in from the kitchen. Both Stan and Mabel stopped their struggling in order to stare at the new arrival. Ford groggily rubbed his eyes at the scene, unsure whether he should be concerned or amused.

“I’m throwing these things out!” Stan explained “Burning them! And probably burning the trash can with them, too!”

“ _No!_ I won’t let you!” Mabel challenged from her parasitic spot on Stan’s leg, and Stan was about to retort when Ford stepped forward.

“Stan, calm down.” Ford attempted to sooth. He plucked one of the little green things from Stan’s hand and examined it. “ _Why_ are you throwing them out?”

“This little _schemer_ -” Stan accused, pointing at Mabel, who sheepishly waved at Ford. “has been trying to get you and me under a mistletoe all month, and I’m sick of her plotting!”

Ford looked to Mabel, who didn’t seem to have any objections to the claim. She finally let go of her great uncle’s leg and stood, sheepishly looking to the floor and avoiding her uncle’s gaze.

“Mabel, is this true?” Ford gently asks, and Mabel bites her lip. She gives a gentle nod, knowing she’s been caught red handed with her hand in her uncles business. Ford sighs, but much to the little girls surprise, it doesn’t seem as angry as she would have expected.

Then, Ford isn’t entirely sure what compelled him to look up. But when he did he could barely hold back the snort of laughter. The noise made Stan raise an eyebrow and Mabel finally looks up. Her eyes widen and her face practically glows as a victorious grin spreads across her face.

Stan looked between the beaming niece and his brother that was failing to keep a straight face. He didn’t even have to look up for it to click.

“We’re under one, aren’t we?” Stan sighed, in overdramatic and utter defeat.

“Unfortunately.” Ford answered lightly, letting the smile spread wider on his face.

It seems in the commotion, Stan hadn’t noticed the _actual_ last mistletoe that hung only two feet away from the one in the living room. The decoration hung there, mocking him as much as a bundle of leaves could. He put his free hand over his face and groaned monumentally.

“Oh, c'mon, Stan. It’s just a kiss between brothers, isn’t it?” Ford comforted, offering a smile and a shrug. Stan glared at him through his fingers before letting his hand fall. Mabel had put her hands together in excitement.

“Right, whatever, let’s get this over with then.” Stan muttered, taking a deep breath and leaning forward.

Ford easily took the cue. He leaned forward, took hold of Stan’s jaw-

and kissed him right _smack dab_ on the lips.

Stan’s eyes shot open as he stood there in absolutely stunned silence. The mistletoes fell to the floor for a second time as his arms fell to his sides. Ford didn’t seem to notice the way his brother became paralyzed the moment their lips connected, because he lingered for a second or two before finally pulling away.

Mabel was squealing the second Ford had moved in, pressing her hands to her face. She began gleefully flailing her arms as Ford pulled away.

“ _There_. Wasn’t too bad, right?” Ford said, all too happy and all too oblivious. Stan’s dumbstruck face and Mabel’s overly excited squee-ing finally seemed to register in his mind. He looked between the two with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

“On the _cheek_ , Sixer.” Stan croaked, voice unexpectedly breathless, mouth dry, and face heating up. “You could have done it on the _cheek_.”

After a moment, the realisation seemed to dawn on him. The way Mabel squeed, the way Stan froze up… his face went crimson in seconds. “Oh.”

They stood there in awkward silence after that, Mabel looking between them with her hands happily still flailing. Stan and Ford stared at each others equally as red faces, neither of them sure what to do after that. Ford had an apology on the tip of his tongue before the door flew open, blasting them with cold air. The twins jumped nearly out of their skin and looked to the culprit; Soos, carrying a giant duffel bag filled with who knows what.

“Oh, Mr. Pines, good! Alright, I couldn’t find any of that fake snow you were talking about yesterday, but I did find some styrofoam…”

His voice trailed off as he looked between the two old men blushing like teenagers, and the girl who looked like she’d just won the lottery.

“Did-did I miss something?”

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I'm posting this way late. But it was on time on my Tumblr! I just... forgot to also put it onto AO3. My bad.


End file.
